


pied piper

by orphan_account



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Kindergarten Teacher Jonghyun, M/M, Prince Minhyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-05 19:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12196095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Minhyun is a philanthropic prince, and Jonghyun is too far gone.





	1. part one - jonghyun

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, this is my second fic in a week...let's see how well this goes.  
> Secondly, some notes: geographically, this is pretty much Korea. Culturally, it's not really, because I couldn't really do that much research on South Korean kindergartens. Politically, it's definitely not, because, you know, there's a monarchy.  
> Thirdly, the title is from [Pied Piper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWaAUThfqqQ) by BTS.

Minki slams a newspaper onto the table in the staffroom. “Will you take a look at this?”

Jonghyun picks it up before anyone else can, unrolling it to see the article on the front page. A photo of the crown prince, smiling in a sufficiently prince-like manner, took up half of the article space. The headline read _CROWN PRINCE MINHYUN ANNOUNCES HIS NEW PROJECT._

Curious, Jonghyun reads on. _This morning, the crown prince Hwang Minhyun announced his next philanthropic project would be aiding in the total renovation of Pledis Kindergarten in Gangwon Province. When asked for a comment, Pledis’s principal Park Jiyoung said “It is an honour to have the crown prince select our school for his renovation project. Both the staff and students will warmly await his arrival.” The project will begin on Monday, October 15, and is projected to last around two months._

“I don’t see what the problem is, Minki,” he said, placing the newspaper back down on the table. “This school is kind of a mess. We need all the help we can get.”

Minki scowls. “We need to grow _organically_. Not because some prince decided he was a philanthropist. I’ll be damned if I end up owing the monarchy _anything_.”

The door burst open and Dongho walks in. “If the crown prince is coming here, I’m resigning,” he announces, making a beeline for the coffee machine. Jonghyun laughs despite himself. “Unless the crown prince decides that his dear royal budget is worth spending on the _recreational facilities_.”

“It’s a kindergarten,” Minki says. “Having a sports hall isn’t exactly the priority.”

“Neither is your secretary shit, but we all know you aren’t going to shut up about needing a new computer when the prince gets here,” Dongho shoots back.

Jonghyun rolls his eyes, the constant back-and-forth of Minki and Dongho (or, more accurately, Minki and any other member of staff) being both familiar and irritating. He didn’t see the problem that they both – despite their argument – seemed to agree on. Maybe Jonghyun was just naïve, but his parents had never shared the common sentient of hating the monarchy that people around him seemed to have. Jonghyun didn’t like making judgements about people he didn’t know, or on events that hadn’t happened yet. Perhaps this would be a good thing. Perhaps Pledis Kindergarten really needed renovating.

“Ugh!” Dongho yelled suddenly. “The fucking coffee machine is broken again!”

Okay, rephrase: Pledis Kindergarten _definitely_ needed renovating.

 

Jonghyun taught a class of twenty-five, which was reason enough for the need in renovating as the national average was more like classes of fifteen. But Yujin had taken maternity leave suddenly at the start of the year, and Jeonghan had refused to come back because the management hadn’t paid him his full June salary, so solutions had to be found and classes had to be combined amongst the four teachers that remained.

Jonghyun wouldn’t say he _minded_. It wasn’t like he taught twenty-five delinquents between the ages of four and six. But school had started a month ago and he wasn’t even close to learning everyone’s names, even with the seating plan he kept in his teacher planner.

 _Teach respectful greeting_ , he wrote in the planner. _Prepare for prince visit._ As the frantic email from Kyungwon had said, the prince arrived in a _week_ and these kids knew nothing about _honorifics_.

“Mr Kim?” says a girl in the front row, looking up from the task Jonghyun set. He didn’t even remember what it was, but apparently it involved all of his classroom’s bare crayon supply since every kid seemed to have one in their hands.

Jonghyun glances down at his seating plan to check her name. “Kyla, what was it that I said about when you want to ask a question?”

The girl lowers her head. “You need to raise your hand?”

He smiles his best trademarked supportive teacher smile at her. “That’s right. What was it you wanted to ask?”

“Is it true the prince is coming here?”

Jonghyun sighs. He should have, in hindsight, figured out that this was a thing that parents would want to tell their children. “Yes, it’s true. Tomorrow, we’ll start preparing for his visit, okay? Now can you finish your –” he glanced at the whiteboard “– your shape drawings?”

“I’m finished, Mr Kim,” says a boy in the second row. “Can you say more about the prince?”

Jonghyun picks up a red ball-point pen that he used for marking and glanced at the seating plan again. He had _mostly_ memorized people’s names. Really. “Okay, Chan. Bring your work here and I’ll tell you more when everyone is done, okay?”

 

“The crown prince, huh?” says Minkyung, reaching over the table to grab the salt. “Is it possible you could get me a job at your school, Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun laughs. “Sure. You could replace Minki. Your names are similar enough, we could save so much on name plates.” He moves to spoon more takeout chicken on Yewon’s plate, and adds, “Can you get your mechanic friend to come in? Our coffee machine broke again.”

“Her name’s Yebin,” Minkyung said, “and sure. Although maybe you’ll want to get the _crown prince_ to buy you a new coffee machine. One that _wasn’t_ made about fifteen years ago.”

Jonghyun laughs. “I don’t think the budget stretches to a new coffee machine. Even though it _is_ a workplace essential. Eat up, kids, there’s enough for all of you.” The family home was still a bit cramped, but the – the _absence_ of two people at the table meant that Jonghyun and his siblings could sit around it with relative comfort. They’d been resorting to eating takeout, now that school started again and Jonghyun could have an excuse to not spend half an hour figuring out how to boil pasta.

He finishes quickly, ignoring the voice in his head that tells him to eat more, because the kids needed to eat up and there really wasn’t enough for all of them. Minkyung glares at him. “Jonghyun,” she says, dropping her voice to a whisper, “next time buy another portion. It’s not inaffordable.”

That’s easy to say now, because now they’re both working and the kids are still in school and Jonghyun isn’t putting aside money for hospital bills with every miniscule paycheck. But it’s hard for Jonghyun to get that into his head. He’s almost surprised that Minkyung noticed. Jonghyun doesn’t exactly broadcast things like this.

He pays Minkyung on the shoulder. “I’m alright, Minkyung-ah.” He is. He’s fine how he is.

 

The day, as Kyungwon had told everyone who would listen, was finally here.

Jonghyun was glad, in all honesty. He’d spent the last week putting his carefully-planned curriculum aside to try to drill some idea of respect and hierarchy into five-year-olds. His class had meticulously practiced saying – or, more accurately, shouting – the planned greeting in unison, and Jonghyun had taken at least ten Tylenols over the last few days because of it.

His class was lined up with the other four classes on the tarmac outside the school building. The other staff members were also there – Jiyoung stood proudly at the helm, and Minki stood to the side arguing with a reporter about whether or not she was allowed to take photos.

“Is that it?” Kyungwon asks, squinting at an incoming car coming along the road. They’d been standing out here for about fifteen minutes, and Kyungwon had asked that about every car that passed.

“Probably not,” Dongho answers sardonically. “They said eleven. It’s eleven-fifteen and there’s no sign of his royal highness.” The car passes the school and Dongho scoffs. “Told you.”

One of the kids in Jonghyun’s class raises her hand. “Sir,” she whines, “its _hot_ and there’s _no prince_. Can we go back inside?”

Jonghyun shakes his head, trying to hide his own irritation. It _was_ hot. “No, Siyeon. Just wait a bit, okay? I’m sure the prince will be here soon.” He runs a hand through his hair and shares a look of exhaustion with Aron on the other side of the tarmac.

Another car pulled up, and this one turned and entered through the gates of the kindergarten. Jonghyun could cry with relief. _Finally_. The driver’s door of the car opens, and a man steps out. “Yoon Jisung,” he said, “chief aide to the Crown Prince.” He shook Jiyoung’s hand, and adds, “We’re all very glad to be here.”

“We’re honoured,” Jiyoung says.

Another man steps out, this time from the passenger side. Jonghyun wonders just how large the prince’s party is. “Ong Seongwoo,” he says, flashing a grin that seemed better suited for an actor or some kind of schmoozing con man. “The prince’s favourite aide.” He also shook Jiyoung’s hand, before looking over the assembled crowd with what Jonghyun was sure was a judgmental look. “So sorry for the delay, we got caught in traffic. It’s a pleasure to be here, Miss Park.”

Jonghyun half-expects the door to the backseat to be opened by one of the aides, but it appears that the prince was fully capable of opening his own car door. He steps out, and Jonghyun peers at him despite himself.

He looks like he does on television – Jonghyun isn’t sure what he was expecting. His features are more delicate-looking in real life, though, and he looks notably less perfectly put-together than he does in his frequent press conferences. He shakes hands with and greets Jiyoung, before stepping past her towards the classes. “Hello, kids,” he says. His voice was softer than it sounds when amplified with a microphone.

The kids look at each other, and then towards the teachers. “Go on,” Jonghyun says supportively.

In perfectly practiced unison, the kids chant, “Welcome to Pledis Kindergarten, Your Highness!” Jonghyun beams and gives Sungyeon, the little girl who had been chosen to give the prince the bouquet, an encouraging pat on the back. He feels someone’s eyes on him, but he can’t place just who.

Sungyeon steps forward. “These are for you, Your Highness,” she says shakily. Jonghyun’s heart beats with pride. When she steps back to the line, Jonghyun gives her a high-five.

The prince smiles at her. Jonghyun knows the other man probably has a lot of practice faking smiles, but the smile seems surprisingly genuine. For all he knew, maybe Hwang Minhyun really did have an interest in helping kindergarteners.

Then the prince moves towards where the staff were assembled and smiles winningly. “It’s going to be a pleasure to work with all of you,” he says. “I’m excited to get to know the…” He trails off, eyes shooting between them all as if doing a head count. Jonghyun stifles a laugh. “The seven of you.”

Despite himself, Jonghyun was excited too.

 

Apparently, the universe had a vendetta against Jonghyun, because the other staff had decided unanimously that Jonghyun was the _best suited to show his royal highness around_.

“You have this vibe,” Minki had said. “You could totally show him around.”

“You’re the receptionist,” Jonghyun had replied. “Shouldn’t you be the face of this fine establishment?”

“Yeah, probably, but I’m not going to show him anything until he proves that he isn’t here to boost his own ego.”  
So Jonghyun stood outside Jiyoung’s office after classes had finished and the kids had left, waiting for whatever briefing was happening inside to finish so he could show the prince around. He was beginning to give up when the door opened and the prince stepped out with his two aides.

“Your Highness?” Jonghyun said. “The other staff volunteered me to show you around.”

The prince’s lips quirk. “You didn’t volunteer yourself?”

Jonghyun flushes. “It’s…I’m not complaining, Your Highness. It’s an honour. But –”

“But they decided you were best suited for the job regardless?” the prince completes. Jonghyun nods, trying to hide his surprise. “I get it. And please, drop the Your Highness. You’re working _with_ me, not _for_ me. Just call me Minhyun.”

“Minhyun,” Jonghyun says aloud, testing it out. The prince tilts his head to one side, another smile crossing across his lips. “Sorry. It’s just – you don’t always end up on first-name terms with the literal crown prince.”

Minhyun laughs. “Yeah. That’s something to write home about, isn’t it?”

Jonghyun is showing Minhyun his classroom when Minhyun suddenly says, “Can I ask for a favour, Jonghyun?” Jonghyun is confused at first, before he remembers that Jiyoung had introduced Minhyun to all of them earlier. He nods. “When I do projects like this, I don’t really…come with a plan. I did, when I started, but then I realized that generally what I and my advisors thinks a place needs isn’t what they actually need? You know what I mean?”

Jonghyun doesn’t, but he nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Minhyun raises an eyebrow. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m not really in a position to know what this place needs. It’s all good and easy for me to say that every classroom in the country needs a computer, and to follow a set curriculum, and that the playground equipment needs to follow some vigorous standard. But you’re the one who actually works here. So you know what this place actually needs.”

Jonghyun frowns. “So you want me…to tell you…how to renovate this place?”

Minhyun winces. “That sounds so much worse than I thought it did, but yeah. I don’t want to be coming in making changes that aren’t needed, while ignoring the things that actually need to be done.”

“That’s good of you,” Jonghyun replies absently. Because it was. Jonghyun hadn’t expected Minhyun to come in and want to make changes that would really benefit the school, but here he was asking Jonghyun to tell him what he thought would actually help. Jonghyun had expected Minhyun to be louder and bolder and more arrogant, with a clearly defined plan, and a goal to raise Pledis Kindergarten in the rankings and nothing else. He hadn’t expected _this_.

Minhyun blushes. He actually _blushes_. “Thank you. So…will you help?”

Jonghyun pretends to consider. “Well…the plumbing could do with some work. Let’s start with that.”

 

“You’ll _never_ guess what happened,” Aron says as soon Jonghyun picks up the phone.

“Enlighten me, then,” he says, already amused. Aron has a habit of embellishing things, but he also doesn’t tend to call people to let them know things, so Jonghyun knows this is going to be some story at the very least.

“So I was at school, right? Because I go in on the weekends, to do janitor stuff, and whatever. And you know what I saw?”

“How would I know, Aron.”

“I saw a plumber, like, actually replacing the pipes. I don’t think we’ve had a plumber in this school since it was founded. And guess who was there overseeing it?”

“Minhyun?” Jonghyun guesses. From across the room, Minkyung gives him a strange look.

“You’ve got it,” Aron says. “He was actually helping, too, it was kind of really cool. Who knew the crown prince knew anything about plumbing, huh?”

When he hangs up, Minkyung is frowning at him. “ _Minhyun_?”

Jonghyun flushes. He knows what the intention behind her question is. “He asked all of us to call him Minhyun. That’s just what he’s like.”

Minkyung smirks. “You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“You _are_.” Jonghyun knows he is, but he isn’t going to admit that, even as a smile of glee crosses across Minkyung’s face. “Does my very own older brother have a _crush_ on the crown prince?”

“Shut up, Minkyung,” he answers, glaring at his locked phone like it was the sole reason why he was currently getting berated by his little sister. “I don’t have a crush on the crown prince. We’re working together. There’s nothing weird about calling him by his first name.”

Minkyung grins. “I’m sure there’s not, Jonghyun.”

 

Minhyun seems to consider Jonghyun a friend.

He brings Jonghyun coffee in the mornings a lot. He’s set up a suggestions box, in the classroom, and he’d told Jonghyun through laughs on Tuesday that at least four of the suggestions were for a new, decent coffee machine. That hadn’t been bought yet, because Minhyun was insisting on doing copious research to find the objective best coffee machine, which Jonghyun thought was kind of redundant but also kind of endearing. But for now, Jonghyun enjoyed the kind of overpriced, kind of overrated chain coffee that Minhyun insisted on putting on his desk.

“Do you do this for all the staff members?” Jonghyun asks. It’s 8am on a Friday, even though school didn’t technically start for another hour and a half. Jonghyun had always liked to be early. It gave him time to set stuff up. And Minhyun also seemed to prefer coming into school at 8am, although Jonghyun couldn’t figure out why because it wasn’t like he was teaching.

“Sometimes,” Minhyun says. “If I remember. Generally, though, you’re the only one who’s in when I show up, so the coffee just ends up getting cold.”

“You’ve been here for two weeks and you’re already making generalizations?” Jonghyun asks, amused. Perhaps he should be a bit more respectful – perhaps he shouldn’t be talking to the crown prince the way he talked to Minki, or Dongho, or any of the other staff members. But Minhyun didn’t _seem_ to mind, and Jonghyun had figured out in the last two weeks that Hwang Minhyun was…surprisingly genuine. It was a refreshing contrast to what he’d initially expected.

Minhyun grins. “It’s not my fault that I can make observations, Jonghyun. We’re both the only ones in this building at this godforsaken hour. If I buy _Minki_ coffee, it’ll get cold by the time he decides to grace us with his presence.”

Jonghyun stifles a laugh. “Speaking of Minki, he asked me to ask you if you wanted to come out with us tonight.” It had caught Jonghyun by surprise, until Minki had told him that he’d come into work on Monday to find totally new secretarial supplies, a Post-It note promising him a new PC for his office, and a _working bathroom_. Of course Minki would warm to Minhyun after that.

“ _Us_?” Minhyun asks. “He did?”

“Yeah, us,” Jonghyun says. “The staff. And probably some extras. We’re going to a karaoke bar. Just wait until you hear Jisoo sing, he’s very good.”

Minhyun smiles at him. It’s a little bit shy, but Jonghyun can’t think for the life of him why. “What about you? Can you sing?”

Jonghyun shrugs. “I almost became an idol, you know. They were training me to be a rapper, but looking back I’m pretty sure that was code for _you can’t sing but we like your face too much to let you go_.”

Minhyun laughs. “I wanted to be an idol once. I mean, I couldn’t, obviously, because I’m the crown prince. But I liked the idea. I think I mostly just thought TVXQ were cool.”

“TVXQ _are_ cool,” Jonghyun says. The idea of Minhyun as an idol was both more plausible and less plausible than the idea of Jonghyun as one. And something in Jonghyun would kind of die to see Minhyun sing. “Can you sing, though?”

Minhyun winks at him. “You’ll see, Jonghyun. You’ll see.”

 

Jonghyun does see.

They’re in a karaoke room, the eight of them, with Jeonghan who tagged along despite not actually being part of the Pledis Kindergarten staff anymore. Minhyun’s singing something – some R&B song that Jonghyun doesn’t recognize. He’s not taking it so seriously, but Jonghyun can tell he’s _good_.

He doesn’t realize he’s been watching intently until Minki jabs him with his elbow. “Whipped.”

Jonghyun doesn’t look away. “Am not.” Minhyun is a significantly worse rapper than he is a singer. “I’m just watching.”

He can physically feel Minki scowling at him. “You never watch me while I sing like that,” he says.

“That’s because Minhyun is a better singer than you,” Jonghyun shoots back. Minhyun finishes on another repeat of the chorus, putting the mic down and grinning at Jonghyun, walking over to where he was and sitting down beside him. Jonghyun smiles at him. Minki pulls a face and gets up to the mic, probably to sing whatever girl group song he liked at that given moment in time.

“What was that about?” Minhyun mumbles. It’s just loud enough for Jonghyun to hear over the chatter in the room, but not loud enough for anyone else.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jonghyun says. He nods at the bottles on the table. “You haven’t drunk anything.”

Minhyun shakes his head, laughing. “I don’t drink around people I’m not comfortable with. I’m such a lightweight it’s ridiculous.”

Jonghyun shrugs. “Noted. You were pretty good up there, you know.”

Minhyun beams at him. “I was?”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun says. “You would’ve been a great idol. You’d have a lot of fans, you sing well.”

“I’m a visual, too,” Minhyun says with mock arrogance. Jonghyun raises an eyebrow. “I search my name up on Pann. I have _fans_ , you know. _Emperor-like visuals_.”

Jonghyun bursts out laughing. “ _Emperor-like_?”

Minhyun shrugs. “That’s what they say, I didn’t make that up. Don’t you think I’m handsome, Jonghyun-ah?"

Jonghyun’s throat tightens. _No,_ he wants to say, _don’t be ridiculous_. He wants to play it off as a joke. But instead, what he does say, is “Yes, Minhyun. I really do.”

 

Minhyun had come in at midday to give Jonghyun a sandwich. “I got time to get this,” he said, “in between hiring someone to come and repaint everything on Sunday and following up on the PC order for Minki.”

“I don’t want you to buy me food, Minhyun,” Jonghyun replied. The very thought of it made blood rush to his cheeks.

“You never eat,” Minhyun said accusingly. “I didn’t buy this for you, but you _never_ eat at breaktimes. You’re tiny. If you ate more maybe you’d hit the 175 cm mark.”

Jonghyun glared. “For your information, I’m 178, you little – something I can’t say in a classroom.” Minhyun had laughed gleefully and walked out.

Now it was two in the afternoon, and all the kids had been picked up except for Hansol. Jonghyun smiled sympathetically at the girl, who was drawing something with crayons to pass the time. After all, he hadn’t forgotten when he’d been five and waited at kindergarten for ages for his parents to pick up. “Hansol? What are you drawing?”

Hansol shows him. It’s a crudely-drawn stick figure with a crown on his head. “It’s the prince, Mr Kim.”

Jonghyun smiles. Minhyun had told him something once when he was in here after school, helping Jonghyun clear stuff away as he often did. “I like to think that even if the changes we do here are temporary, they’ll remember this. The kids, I mean. I like to think I’ll have a legacy with them.”

“The changes _we_ make?” Jonghyun had asked teasingly.

Minhyun had nodded. “Yeah. We. Me and you.” He lowered his head. “And the others. This isn’t just a me thing.”

“Mr Kim?” Jonghyun flashes back to the present, trying not to be embarassed with how he got so side-tracked. “My brother says when two people spend a lot of time together and buy each other things it means they’re dating.”

Jonghyun raises an eyebrow. “Why are you asking me about dating, Hansol?”

Hansol looks at the ground. “Are you and the prince dating, Mr Kim?”  
Jonghyun’s cheeks colour. “What?” He glances at the floor, the ceiling, the door, wishing that Hansol’s dad would show up right this second. Or maybe Minki. Or just anyone who could save him from having to answer. “No, Hansol. We aren’t.”

Hansol shrugs. “Okay,” he says, going back to his drawing, totally oblivious to the rush of thoughts in Jonghyun’s mind.

Later, Minhyun would ask Jonghyun what was wrong to make him look so confused and lost. And Jonghyun would laugh it off and refuse to answer.

 

“How’s your boyfriend, Jonghyun?” Minki asks as he walks into the staffroom. Jonghyun gives him a confused look as he walks towards the (new and improved, courtesy of Minhyun) coffee machine. “You know. Your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Jonghyun replies.

Minki rolls his eyes. “I’m talking about Minhyun. Hwang Minhyun. The crown prince. The guy who hired people to repaint the whole building last weekend. Ring a bell, Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun flushes. “We aren’t dating. He’s not my boyfriend.” He really wasn’t. Just because Minhyun was more affectionate to him, because he got him lunch and told him he needed to eat more, because Minhyun spent his afternoon helping Jonghyun tidy up – that didn’t mean they were dating. They were _friends_. That’s just what friends did.

“Sure, Jonghyun. Sure.” Minki takes a sip from his coffee. “If a guy that hot liked me as much as he likes you, I’d make a move on him.”

Jonghyun glares. “Don’t say that,” he says before he can stop himself. “Don’t call him hot.”

Minki smirks. “Why do you care?”

Jonghyun glowers. He doesn’t even need coffee anyway. “Whatever. I’m going back to my classrooms. At least five-year-olds can’t question my relationship with my friend.” (Well, they could, and one of them _had_ , but Jonghyun wasn’t going to dwell on that.)

 

Minhyun leans against Jonghyun’s desk, watching as he re-organizes the supplies for what feels like the fourth time this week. “It’s Friday night,” he says, as if Jonghyun doesn’t know. “You got any plans?”

Jonghyun looks at Minhyun inquisitively. “Is the literal crown prince asking me to go clubbing with him?”

Minhyun laughs. “I guess. I figured it would be fun to go out somewhere. Also, I’m pretty sure the reporters mostly just gave up and stopped trying to photograph me.”

“Right,” Jonghyun says, “because you’re a hermit except for when someone drags you out, right?”

Minhyun laughs. “You say this like you’re any better, Jonghyun-ah.” Jonghyun ignores the stirring feeling in his stomach. “Anyway, are you in?”

Jonghyun shrugs. “It’s not like I had any other option.” Minhyun beams at him. Jonghyun thinks he would do a lot of things to have Minhyun beam at him like that forever. “Sure, why not.”

Minhyun nods. “I’ll meet you somewhere sometime then.” Jonghyun laughs. “I’ll text you. See you, Jonghyun.”

“See you.”

(As Minhyun leaves, Jonghyun could swear he hears him murmur “I really like you, Kim Jonghyun.” He doesn’t think he was meant to hear that.)

(He ignores it.)

 

Jonghyun normally doesn’t like clubs. He spends his time when Minki (or someone else, but mostly Minki) drags him out either hanging around the bar, texting Minkyung every five seconds to make sure the kids are okay, or outside waiting for it to be an acceptable time to pack up and leave.

Jonghyun normally doesn’t like clubs, but here he is, with Minhyun next to him at the bar, chatting away above the sound of the pulsing music. And maybe it’s the atmosphere, or the alcohol, or the fact that Minhyun’s smile is almost blindingly bright, but he thinks he could get used to this if Minhyun wanted him to.

“This isn’t even normally my thing,” Minhyun says – or rather, shouts. He’s been nursing at the same drink for the entire time that they’ve been there, and Jonghyun knows now that he’s right – he is a lightweight. He’s _giggling_. Giggling and leaning against Jonghyun and being up in his space and Jonghyun thinks he might just die, right there and now. “But it’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” Jonghyun asks.

“Yeah,” Minhyun replies with another grin. “I’m with _you_.” Jonghyun’s heart races as Minhyun grabs his hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance,” Jonghyun says.

“Neither do I.”

So Jonghyun feels himself being dragged onto the dance floor with Minhyun grabbing his hand, and he doesn’t stop him as they struggle to find a momentum to dance. Minhyun is worse than Jonghyun is, but they’re both on the bad side of tipsy and the last thing Jonghyun wants is for this to stop.

They’re dangerously close. Jonghyun knows this is a bad idea, but he looks up and locks eyes with Minhyun, and Minhyun’s eyes move lower and lock on his lips. A thousand unspoken words go between them.

Then Minhyun cups his face, and murmurs, “Are we doing this, or not?”

Jonghyun leans up to kiss him as an answer.

 

Jonghyun isn’t sure what time it is when they leave – only that most of the time they spent was spent with their hands and lips on each other. Minhyun is laughing almost uncontrollably. Jonghyun wants to listen to that sound forever.

“Do you live close?” Minhyun asks.

“You aren’t driving,” Jonghyun replies.

“Do I look like an idiot?” Minhyun asks. “I was gonna walk you home. If you live close.”

“I do live close,” Jonghyun says. It was warm when they got here, but it’s a cold November night now and Jonghyun wishes he’d brought a jacket. Minhyun smiles at him as if he notices, and wraps his own jacket around Jonghyun’s shoulders. Jonghyun’s heart speeds up even more than it did before.

“So I’ll walk you back.”

They don’t talk much as they walk back, but Minhyun’s hand fits into Jonghyun’s far too well and Jonghyun thinks he likes this, this comfortable silence they have. When they reach Jonghyun’s apartment block, he looks at Minhyun and sees an expression he doesn’t recognize on his face.

“Minhyun?” he asks.

“You live here?” Minhyun asks. And maybe Jonghyun is just over-reacting, maybe his brain wants to pre-emptively end this relationship before it even starts, but he can’t help but here a stress on the _here_. You live _here_.

“Yes,” he says. “I do. Is there a problem with that?”

Minhyun’s face is unreadable. “There’s not. It’s…”

Jonghyun’s blood flares. “I didn’t expect this from you, Minhyun. Hwang Minhyun. Your _Highness_.” Minhyun doesn’t speak. He doesn’t try to defend himself. Something inside Jonghyun eggs him on. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with where this is. I grew up here. In this very apartment. And I grew up just _fine_. We can’t all grow up in a fucking _palace_.”

Minhyun lowers his head. “Goodnight, Jonghyun.”

“You’re not even going to defend yourself?” Jonghyun asks. He wants Minhyun to defend himself. He wants Minhyun to tell him that he’s wrong, that that’s not what he meant, that that wasn’t his intent. But Minhyun doesn’t say anything. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

 

Jonghyun busies himself with work the next week. Minkyung had interrogated him when he got home, of course, but the last thing Jonghyun wanted to think about was Hwang Minhyun.

Obviously, since the universe hated him, the only thing he had been _able_ to think about was Hwang Minhyun. He was making an _attempt_ , of course, to force Minhyun out of his mind, but he couldn’t exactly become an alcoholic while teaching twenty-five children, and working twice as hard was honestly just making both him and the kids completely frustrated.

It was Tuesday, and Jonghyun wasn’t expecting much, but someone knocked on his classroom door after school had finished. It’s Minhyun, holding a bouquet of flowers, looking like nothing Jonghyun has seen before. He’s seen Minhyun when he’s a collected prince, giving press conferences on TV. He’s seen Minhyun when he’s earnestly smiling at him, eyes wide, wanting to help in any way possible. He’s seen Minhyun ruffled under the strobe lights of a club, looking ruffled but perfect all the same. But he’s never seen Minhyun like this – so small and guilty and _sad_.

Jonghyun’s still angry. But he wants this to be over with.

Minhyun lowers his head. “Jonghyun? Can we talk?” He nods. Minhyun steps forward, places the flowers delicately on the desk. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean _that_ – that where you lived was inferior, or something. I don’t know what I meant, but it wasn’t that.”

Jonghyun nods. “But you didn’t say anything to defend yourself. You just let me yell at you. I don't understand why, Minhyun."

Minhyun looks at the ground. “I don’t think I fully processed what you were saying. And I think…I think my brain wanted to end this.” Jonghyun stares at him. He doesn’t know how to say that he thinks Minhyun might be right. “The project finishes soon. And then I go back to Seoul, and work on something else, and then I become king, and then I’ll get married to some foreign princess, and I’ll have to forget about you even if I don’t want to.” He steps away as if instinctively. “Maybe we were never meant to work. We. Me and you.”

Jonghyun swallows. “Is this a breakup?”

Minhyun grimaces at him. “We would’ve need to be dating for this to be a breakup.” Jonghyun can hear the regret in his voice. He swallows and nods. “You’re right. Go be the crown prince.”

Minhyun winces. “I’m sorry, Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun shrugs. “I’m sorry, too.”

As soon as Minhyun leaves, Jonghyun throws the bouquet in the trash. He definitely doesn’t look at it once. He _definitely_ doesn’t spend the next hour wondering what he could have done to fix things. He _most_ _definitely_ doesn’t fall asleep that night thinking of how things would have turned out if Minhyun wasn’t _Minhyun_ and Jonghyun wasn’t _Jonghyun_.

 

When Jonghyun wakes up the next morning, the only thing on the news is about the King being dead.

He doesn’t process it at first, but it’s when he gets to school and the only word on everyone’s lips is _the king_ and _dead_ and _poor Minhyun_ that he really realizes what’s happened. And Minhyun’s gone and back in the capital before Jonghyun can reach out to him. It wasn’t like Minhyun would want to be around Jonghyun right now, anyway.

It’s not until later that day that he realizes that Minhyun is the king now.

It’s not until he turns on the television in the evening that he realizes that he was probably never going to see Minhyun again.

And it’s not until he’s lying in bed that night that he realizes he’s completely, all-encomsumingly in love with Hwang Minhyun.


	2. part two - minhyun

Minhyun doesn’t let himself cry until he’s away from the rest of the world.

The funeral was full of reporters. He can’t say he’s surprised – he’s been to funerals before – but it’s jarring to see all those cameras poised and ready for any kind of reaction.

“It’s okay,” Hyerin had told him when he’d moved to dab his eyes before they could spill over. “You can cry. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay, because Minhyun hated crying in front of people. The last thing he wanted was for people to pity him, was for people to think that he needed to be protected. He was able to deal with shit on his own. He wasn’t some useless dependent crown prince who couldn’t deal with anything.

That was why he’d started all the projects, honestly. He’d done eight – nine, but really, Pledis Kindergarten had become more than just a project – partly out of wanting to improve the country but mostly out of just wanting people to know that Hwang Minhyun had some good ideas. That he wasn’t like any of the other kings they’d had. That he was capable to lead them, because sometimes it was very easy for his brain to convince him that he wasn’t.

But now he was in the room and he can’t help himself from crying. And he wants to cry. He wants to think about his father, about how he’ll be crowned king this summer, about how he’ll have all these new responsibilities and advisor meetings and bills to pass that Minhyun isn’t prepared to pass, that he doesn’t _want_ to pass. Because when he tries to distract himself his brain goes back to Kim Jonghyun. And he thinks that might be worse.

 

“It’s good luck to be crowned in the summer,” his mother says, “so your coronation will be sometime in June.”

Minhyun’s forgotten how stifling the palace can be. He’s been in this room for what feels like hours, listening to his mother talk about foreign relations and marriages and organizing his coronation. He shares a look of desperation with Hyerin across the room, who’s watching the scene with a small smile on her face. “Mother,” she says, “May I borrow Minhyun for a while? He looks like he needs a break.”

Minhyun smiles gratefully at her, while his mother frowns. “There’s a lot to deal with, Hyerin. He’s been gone for almost two months. I don’t know how much he’s heard about things going on back here.”

“I won’t be long,” Hyerin promises. “Just to catch a breath of fresh air.” She smiles winningly, a trademarked charismatich royal family smile, and his mother shrugs and gives in.

“Minhyun,” she says, linking arms with him as they leave the room. “It’s different this time, isn’t it?”

Minhyun looks at her confusedly. “What do you mean, Hyerin?” he asks, looking around to try and figure out where his sister was dragging him. By the looks of things, they’re heading out to the gardens, which is just as stifling but in a different way. Everything seems stifling now.

“The project. Something happened when you were off there, didn’t it?” Now Minhyun understands. Hyerin wants to interrogate him, and Minhyun…really wants to tell her. She leads him to a bench in the gardens and lightly shoves his shoulder. “Tell me, Minhyun. Don’t bottle this up.”

“Nothing happened,” Minhyun lies.

Hyerin stares at him disbelievingly. “You’re too sad for nothing to have happened.”

“Father died,” Minhyun says frankly. “That’s why I’m sad.”

Hyerin shakes her head. “That might work on someone else, but not on me. This –” she beckoned vaguely at Minhyun “– isn’t you being in mourning. You look regretful. Like you did something wrong, or you didn’t do something right. So what happened, Minhyun?”

Minhyun shrugs. “I guess. I just.” He knows why he’s looking all regretful. Because he _is_ regretful. “There’s a guy.” Hyerin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t interrupt. “We had – we kind of had a thing going on. But then I ended it, because it was stupid of me to think it’d work, and he didn’t complain, and –”

“What’s he like?” Hyerin asks.

Minhyun swallows. He doesn’t know how to answer. He doesn’t know how to talk about Jonghyun, about how _fucking perfect_ he is, about how Minhyun really felt like anything could work as long as he had Jonghyun. “He was one of the teachers,” he manages finally. “He was good with the kids. He was – he is so kind-hearted, Hyerin. Everything he does, he just…”

He trails off. Hyerin is smiling at him, not her trademarked charismatic royal family smile but something warm and sisterly and supportive. “You’re smiling,” she says. “He must really be something, huh?”

Minhyun nods. “He is. But…that doesn’t matter. Because I have –” He raises his arms, indicating the palace around him. “Because I have to live _here_ , and be the _king_ , and I can’t do that and be in love with him at the same time.”

Hyerin frowns. “Minhyun-ah,” she begins, and Minhyun shakes his head. “No, listen. Sometimes…sometimes it’s okay to do what isn’t the objectively right thing to do. Sometimes it’s better to just do what makes you happy.”

Minhyun shrugs. “But what happens if what makes me happy ruins everyone else around me?”

Hyerin doesn’t answer.

 

“It’d be pointless to go back,” says Seokhoon.

Minhyun _knows_ Seokhoon is being rational. He’s known the man his whole life. He knows he needs to let him advise him the way he advised his father. But _god_ – Minhyun doesn’t want to be rational, he wants to go back and finish his project. “It looks bad,” he tries to argue, “if I start a project and don’t finish it.”

“So figure it out from the palace,” Yoonmi advises. “People will understand that you need to be _here_ , preparing to become king. Put a few plans in place, pay the money up front, take the measures you would’ve taken if you were there, but stay here. In Seoul.

“You’re needed here,” Boa says. “They don’t need you.”

 _But I need them_ , Minhyun thinks. He doesn’t say it.

He writes the bills for the solar panels to be fitted on the roof when he gets back. Then he deposits money straight to the school’s bank account. It isn’t enough. It won’t be enough, not for Minhyun. But it’ll do.

 

He wakes up two days later to two emails in his inbox. One is from Minki, thanking him very formally and professionally and insincerely for everything he’s done for the school. The other is from an email he doesn’t recognize. Normally, he doesn’t open emails that he doesn’t recognize, but something about this one compels him. He clicks.

 _Dear Minhyun,_ it says. _I’m sending this from my personal email because I’d get fired if I said this to you on my work email. Your work is pretty appreciated by the school. You did a lot and all, whatever. But I can’t thank you with sincerity, because Jonghyun’s looked like a kicked puppy who fell into a stream and also lost his entire extended family for weeks since you left, and I know it’s your fault and to be honest, that was kind of fucked up of you. You don’t have to apologize or any of that shit, you’re a prince and whatever, but I think you should know that you fucked up big time. Cheers, Choi Minki._

Minhyun stares at the screen. Feels his eyes start to swell with tears. And closes the page.  

 

“Chaeyeon,” his mother says.

“Huh?” Minhyun responds absently. He’s sure there’s a context that he missed, but his mind was elsewhere and he honestly didn’t care about his mother telling him royal things. “Who?”

“Jung Chaeyeon. That’s who you’re marrying,” she answers. “Her family have been nobles for centuries. It’s a good match.”

“I’ve never met her,” Minhyun says.

His mother looks at him pityingly. “I’d never met your father, either.” She draws a seat at the table and places her hand on Minhyun’s shoulder. “I know this is hard on you, Minhyun –”

“It’s not,” Minhyun responds automatically. “Did Hyerin tell you something?”

“I have eyes, Minhyun-ah,” his mother says. “You seem so sad lately. I don’t know what happened to make you like this, but…”

“I don’t want to be king,” Minhyun says. He doesn’t know what compels him to say it, only that it’s something that’s existed in the back of his mind for what feels like months. Years, even. Maybe it’s always been there, it’s just come to the surface now. “I don’t think I _can_ be king.” His mother pursed her lips. He doesn’t realize his voice rising in volume until he continues. “All these projects, and attempts to make people like me – they’re all because I know I’m going to mess up when I am king. I’ve been in meetings, with Father. You have to make _sacrifices_. You have to do stuff you don’t want to do that isn’t going to help anything and that’s not what I’m going to do.”

His mother’s face is like stone. “We all have our duties, Minhyun,” she says coldly. “I hope you get over this _phase_ in due time.”

Minhyun scoffs. He doesn’t know where this bravado comes from, only that he feels it everywhere, and he wants to say everything that’s been brimming in his mind for weeks, months, _years_. He wants. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to want anything. “It’s not a phase,” he says. “I’ve felt like this forever.”

His mother laughs. There’s no mirth in it, though – just condescending and cold in the way that his mother often is. “ _Grow up_ ,” she says. “You’re the crown prince. You have a duty to this country. You need to follow what _they_ expect of you.”

“Is it really following what’s expected of me if I can’t do it?” Minhyun asks, eyes dark, face still stinging from the impact of her hand.

His mother shakes her head and leaves the room without an answer.

 

“Minhyun?” Seongwoo says. “You’ve been in here for hours. What’s up?” Minhyun buries his head further into his pillow and doesn’t answer. He only moves when he feels Seongwoo’s weight sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Nothing,” he says, moving so that he’s sitting up with his back against the bedframe. Seongwoo raises an eyebrow. “It’s really nothing.” Seongwoo tilts his head to one time questioningly. “My mom is marrying me off. Which is nothing new, but I don’t want to do it.”

“Have you _ever_ wanted to do it?” Seongwoo asks. Minhyun forgets, sometimes, both how long Seongwoo has known him and how observant the other boy can be. “I thought it was just something you’d long-since accepted.”

“It _was_ ,” Minhyun said. “But…I don’t know.”

“Something happened to change that?” Seongwoo responds. He really was too observant for his own good. “Just the marriage thing, or the whole being-king thing?”

“The whole being-king thing. I guess…I guess what I want to do shifted from making my family proud and becoming king to –”

“To?"

“Moving back to Gangwon Province full-time and raise a family of small cats?”

Seongwoo bursts out laughing. “Wow,” he says. “You’re in love, Hwang Minhyun.”

Minhyun frowns. “You figured that out just from that?”

Seongwoo shrugs. “You’re not as difficult to read as you think you are. Or maybe I’ve just known you for ten years. Either way, I’ve had a feeling for a while. Since before we left.” He grins and shoves Minhyun. “Besides, that’s such a domestic dream. Nobody who isn’t in love has that as their highest aspiration. My highest aspiration, for example, is to climb a mountain and then throw a small object down that mountain.”

“Why the hell?”

“To confuse whoever sees it hit the ground? It’s a philosophical condurum. An exploration of futility.”

Minhyun rolls his eyes. “That’s all very interesting, but it doesn’t really answer the life dilemma I have right now, you know.”

“Didn’t realize that being your aide meant being a relationship counselor.” Seongwoo says teasingly, before his face turns serious. “I think everyone has their duty. No, hear me out. I think everyone has their duty but you reach a point in your life where you fulfill your duty.” He shifts slightly in his position. “You do a lot, Minhyun. I think I’d say you’ve fulfilled it.”

“What does that even mean?” Minhyun asks.

“It means you should follow your heart,” Seongwoo says. “You’ve done your time. You can do what you want now.” He pats Minhyun on the shoulder as he gets up. “Tell you what. Say you’re going for a few days off and get the train down. Figure out if this is really what you want to do – and if the other person is okay with it. And if you decide you really want to do this, then do it. Hyerin is more than qualified to run this country, you know.”

As Seongwoo leaves, Minhyun considers. Some impulse in him moves to his computer. _I’m taking three days of leave_ , he types. _Will be back Monday. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious_. He sends it to Seokhoon, and opens a tab to book train tickets to Gangwon Province.

 

It’s only when he’s on the train that he considers two flaws in his plan. One: that Jonghyun was totally over him, that he didn’t care about Minhyun anymore, that the sight of Minhyun was enough to make him want to put lead in his skull. Two: that he doesn’t actually know where Jonghyun lives.

When he reaches his destination, it’s past 10pm and Minhyun is completely lost. He’s banking on the fact that nobody would expect the crown prince to be here in this particular town on this particular day for nobody to recognize him. He really should have planned this. Next time, he was going to listen to Seongwoo’s advice and proceed to do the polar opposite.

He figures he might as well try to figure things out. He finds the club where he first kissed Jonghyun – or maybe Jonghyun kissed him, it’s fuzzy and all Minhyun can remember is that they didn’t kiss enough. He figures his way around, but his memory is bad and everything in this town looks the same and he could cry when he sees a figure taking out the bins in front of an apartment block.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says. “I’m looking for a person, but I don’t know where they live. I think it’s around this area, but –”

“What’s their name?” the girl asks. She steps closer to the light, as if to get a better look at Minhyun’s face.

“Kim Jonghyun,” Minhyun replies.

The girl steps even closer, and Minhyun steps back right into the path of the lamp post to get away from her in his space. “No _fucking_ way,” she says. “Crown prince, Hwang Minhyun, gracing us with his presence. And he wants to see _Jonghyun_.”

Minhyun’s eyes brighten. “Do you know where he lives?”

“I’m his sister,” she says. “He lives in this building.” Minhyun begins to nod, but she steps in front of him. “Not so fast. My brother’s been a mess since you up and left. How can I know you’re not going to mess him up again?”

Minhyun swallows. This is something he wants to say to Jonghyun. He wants to tell Jonghyun that he’s beautiful, that he would give everything up for him, that the only thing Minhyun wants right now is to be able to tell Jonghyun all of this. He wants to tell Jonghyun that he loves him.

He doesn’t.In the end, he shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t promise that. But I want to try.”

He’s not expecting her to accept it, but she nods. “Good. You’re being honest. Come on, follow me.”

Minhyun had expected Jonghyun to live alone, but when they finally stop walking up stairs he hears voices from through the door. The girl slots her keys into the lock and he hears an uproar of sound. Minhyun steps to the side, away from the door frame, not wanting to be a shock.

“They should be asleep, Jonghyun,” says the girl. “You’re too good to them.”

He hears the laughter in Jonghyun’s voice. “They’re all so old now, Minkyung. Yewon is _fifteen_. I can’t tell a fifteen year old that she needs to be asleep at nine on a Friday.”

“What about Seonho?” Minkyung asks, but she’s laughing too. Minhyun wants to be a part of this. “You’ve got a visitor, Jonghyun. Come on, kids, come with me. Leave Jonghyun to deal with this. He’ll want to be alone, okay?” She leans backwards. “You can come in now.”

Minhyun steps forward, through the door. Closes it. He can feel Jonghyun’s eyes on him, but the other man doesn’t anything. The silence is painful. “Jonghyun,” he says finally. “Jonghyun.”

“What do you have to say?” Jonghyun asks numbly.

Minhyun can’t bring himself to say it. He’d spent five hours on the train deciding what he was going to say, but now he’s here and his hands are shaking and he can’t even _look_ at Jonghyun. “Jonghyun,” he says again. His lip quivers.

Jonghyun steps forward, into Minhyun’s space. Minhyun doesn’t move back. “Minhyun,” he says softly. “Minhyun. What’s wrong? What’s happened?”  
“You should hate me,” Minhyun says. His voice shakes. “You should want me to get out. Why don’t you, Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun steps forward again. Brushes his hand against Minhyun’s face. Minhyun didn’t know he was crying until he felt Jonghyun wipe away a tear. He can’t bring himself to care. “I could never hate you,” he says quietly, almost too quiet for Minhyun to hear. “I could never, Minhyun.”

“Jonghyun,” Minhyun says again. He can feel himself slowly wanting to falling apart. He can feel Jonghyun there, waiting to put him back together. “I’m scared, Jonghyun.”

“Why?” Jonghyun asks.

Minhyun swallows, wills his eyes to dry up. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Kim Jonghyun. And I’m scared of losing this. Losing all of this.”

He doesn’t know who’s the one to close the gap this time, either. But this isn’t like their last kiss, at the bar, frantic and impulse-driven with both of them knowing this is a dangerous line they’re treading. This is soft, loving, saying everything they can’t say with words. Minhyun wants to feel this forever.

They break apart. “You’re still crying,” Jonghyun says. He grabs Minhyun’s hand, pulls him towards the sofa. “What will I do with you, Hwang Minhyun?”

“Get me tissues,” Minhyun says. “That would be a great start.”Jonghyun smiles. _They’re fine_ , Minhyun thinks. Jonghyun’s right. He doesn’t think either of them could ever hate each other, and it’s so easy to fall back into how they were. And that’s what Minhyun wants, but it also isn’t enough. He wants _more_. He wants _forever_.

“Here you go,” says Jonghyun, passing him a box of tissues. “Why are you here, Minhyun?”

“I got on a train,” Minhyun says, “and I came here. On impulse. I’m here for two days.” Jonghyun frowns. “I wanted to come and apologize. And to see if this is what I really want.”

“What’s _this_?”

“ _This_.” Minhyun beckons. “You. Us. A quiet, decisively non-kingly life. To be able to love you.”

“And _is_ that what you want?”

“I want to abdicate.” Jonghyun gives him a strange look. “I’ve wanted to for a long time. But I didn’t realize that’s what I wanted until I found a better option.” He locks eyes with Jonghyun. “The better option is you, by the way.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Jonghyun moves. His arm settles around Minhyun’s shoulders, which should probably feel uncomfortable because Jonghyun is shorter than him but Minhyun settles into it. “But you’re twenty-two, aren’t you? You’ve been preparing for being king for twenty-two years. You’ve known me for three months. You shouldn’t throw all of that away for me.”

“I’m throwing it away for myself,” Minhyun declares. “And for you. But mostly for me. Being king isn’t what I want. It’s not what I ever wanted. What I want is to be helpful. And happy. And you make me happy. It’s really quite simple.”

Jonghyun shrugs. “Think about it. Over the next two days. Figure out if this is really what you want.” Minhyun nods. He moves to kiss Jonghyun again, but he grins and adds, “And also, try and get Minkyung to like you. She kind of hates you for dumping me when we weren’t even dating. Do you have a place to stay?”

“I don’t,” Minhyun said. “This was kind of an impulse decision.”

Jonghyun smiles. “Impulse decision, huh? Is it too early in the relationship to offer you a place to stay here?”  
“Probably,” Minhyun replies. “But I want to.”

 

“It’s definitely too early in the relationship for this,” Minhyun rectifies.

Jonghyun rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around Minhyun’s shoulders, pulling him to lie flat on the mattress. “There’s a couch in the sitting room,” he says, his voice muffled as he buries his face in Minhyun’s shoulder. “You can move, if you want.”

Minhyun shifts, settling himself into lying on his back with his head against the pillow and Jonghyun clinging onto him like a koala would a tree. It’s quite cute. “No thanks,” he answers.

“So don’t complain,” Jonghyun says.

Minhyun laughs. “I like your apartment.” Even in the dim light of the bedside lamp, he can see Jonghyun craning his neck to stare disbelievingly at him. “I do. It’s nice.”

“It’s not the royal palace.”

“The palace isn’t a nice place to live,” Minhyun answers. Jonghyun’s disbelieving expression intensifies. “No, I mean, it’s nice, but it’s not a nice place to grow up. I didn’t really have many friends growing up. Imagine inviting someone at daycare to a playdate at the literal palace.”

“Did you go to daycare?”

“No.”

Jonghyun laughs. “I imagine it would’ve been pretty lonely, yeah.”

“My only friend growing up was my older sister. And Seongwoo, but I was twelve when I met him, so it doesn’t count.” Jonghyun’s looking at him sadly now. “And I never really got along with my parents. They never really…got me.” Minhyun moves his hand to stroke Jonghyun’s hair, and Jonghyun hums at the action. “What happened to your parents, Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun sighs. “My dad died when I was fifteen,” he says, “just after Seonho was born. Remember that accident, in this area, in the factory? Where three people died?” Minhyun did remember – it had incited a big debate within parliament on whether they should impose regulations on factories. Minhyun remembers wondering why they needed to debate on it. “One of them was Dad.”

“Oh,” Minhyun says. “I’m sorry.”

Jonghyun shrugs. “It was seven years ago,” he says with a small sigh. “It’s fine.” He shifts slightly. “Mom died a few months ago. She’d always had health issues, though. That’s why the five of us are all so far apart in age.”

“I’m sorry,” Minhyun says. And then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “I love you.” There’s none of the fanfare that Minhyun expected, just a warm feeling in his body and a smile on Jonghyun’s face. “I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”

“Shut up,” Jonghyun says. “That’s so _cheesy_.”

“No, it’s true,” Minhyun replies. “I remember. We were in front of the school, on the asphalt, and there was this little girl, right? And she was giving me flowers. And she was so shy, but you went up to her and encouraged her and she was fine after that and I thought that was really sweet of you. I really do think I’ve loved you since then.”

“Shut up,” Jonghyun says again. “I don’t remember when I fell in love with you. I only realized I had when I thought it was too late to do something about it.”

“God,” says Minhyun. “We were idiots.”

“It was a month ago.”

“Doesn’t make it any less idiotic.” He sighs. “I remember flirting with you _so hard_. You didn’t even notice. I was so disappointed.”

“I didn’t really expect the literal crown prince to be flirting with me.”

“Still disappointed.”

Jonghyun reaches over to turn the bedside lamp off. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

Minhyun smiles. It’s nice, this. He could get used to this. “Goodnight, Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun clings onto him tighter. “Goodnight, Minhyun,” he says sleepily.

 

Minhyun spends the day with Jonghyun.

It’s amazing, he thinks, how easy it is to feel comfortable around someone you _love_. He’s squashed up on the sofa, Jonghyun practically in his lap with how close they were. Five people don’t fit very well in one room small, and Minhyun has always taken up more space than he needs. But it’s fine, because he’s bantering with Minkyung and Jonghyun is beaming at him and this already feels more like home than the palace and he’s been here for a day.

“You feel like home,” he whispers into Jonghyun’s ear. His smile brightens even more than it was before. Minhyun’s never seen Jonghyun smile like this, but he’s obsessed already – addicted to the sight of it, never wants it to go away.

He feels a tug on his arm. It’s Hyunbin, who’s eleven and Jonghyun’s little brother and looking at him with a lot more force than an average eleven year old. “Minhyun?” says the kid. “I want to ask you something.”

Minhyun smiles at Hyunbin. Jonghyun had spent a good half hour telling him everything there was to know about his siblings, and Minhyun was fairly certain he knew the kid’s life story by now. “Yeah, Hyunbin?”

“Are you in love with Jonghyun-hyung?”

Jonghyun looks at him and shakes his head as if to say _ignore him, Minhyun, it’s fine_. He doesn’t ignore him. “I think I am, Hyunbin.”  
“Are you gonna marry him?”

Jonghyun stifles a laugh as Minhyun shoots him a look. _Help me_ , Minhyun wants to say. _I don’t know how to deal with kids_. Jonghyun doesn’t help him. “I want to,” he says finally. Hyunbin nods and turns back to the TV.

Jonghyun bursts out laughing. “You sound so pained,” he explains through laughs. “You’re so bad with kids. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to be _that bad._ ”

“We can’t all work with kids for a living,” Minhyun says. Jonghyun laughs and wraps his arms around Minhyun’s shoulders.

 

 _To whom it may concern_.

Minhyun frowns at his laptop. “Just do it tomorrow,” Jonghyun says sleepily. “You’ll have time.” It’s Sunday night, and the train that was meant to be Minhyun’s train back to the capital had left an hour ago. And he’d made up his mind.

“I can’t,” Minhyun says. “I need to get it out of the way.”

“Well,” Jonghyun says, “I’m going to sleep. Don’t wake me when you finally finish.” Minhyun laughs softly and blows a kiss, practically feeling Jonghyun blushing from across the room.

_To whom it may concern,_

_In this correspondence, I, Prince Hwang Minhyun, Crown Prince, incite Article 17 of the Document of Royal Rights, that states that all royals have the right to renounce their right to the throne._ He smiles softly and glances over to Jonghyun on the other side of the room. _I name my successor in the role of Crown Royal as Princess Hwang Hyerin._

He’s expecting the fallout – he’s expecting angry emails from his mother and confused phone calls from Hyerin and triumphant text messages from Seongwoo. But he doesn’t care about dealing with that, because honestly? It was worth it. It was worth it for Jonghyun, and for Minhyun himself, and for both of them separately and as a whole unit.

He clicks send.

“Did you send it?” Jonghyun asks as Minhyun heads towards him.

“I thought you were going to sleep.”

Jonghyun hums. “Didn’t want to. Not until you finish.” He opens his eyes and rubs at them. “So you’re staying here, right?”

“I’m staying for as long as you want me to,” Minhyun replies. Jonghyun hums again. “I love you, Jonghyun.”

“I love you too, Minhyun. And I’m glad you’re staying. With me.”

Minhyun smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkle, in the way he feels them doing a lot of the time when he smiles at Jonghyun. “I’m glad too, Jonghyun. Believe me, I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, that was a wild ride to write. I hope you enjoyed it!   
> I did consider writing a short few epilogue scenes, but decided against in the end. If there's demand, though, I may reconsider...  
> Feel free to leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this, and thanks a ton for reading and paying my nonexistent bills.


End file.
